


The Game

by llaras



Category: Firefly
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Flirting, Gambling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9680288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llaras/pseuds/llaras
Summary: Simon has a big mouth when he's been drinking.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This little ficlet is for the very comment-y [](http://budclare.livejournal.com/profile)[budclare](http://budclare.livejournal.com/). I hope you like it, sweetie!

He's not a stupid man. But he does have stupid moments. Like drinking a little too much plum wine after dinner and in a happy drunken haze telling Zoe that she's beautiful.

Simon looks around for support from Kaylee and Jayne, but they have cleared the room faster than it takes Zoe to raise an eyebrow in response to his declaration.

"Where did they go?" he asks, puzzled. He frowns at the cards in his hand. "I have a really good hand for once."

Zoe puts her own hand down carefully, her eyes never leaving his face. "Simon," she says carefully, "I think you've had enough wine."

He grins up at her. "That's ridiculous! I've only had one or two or three glasses. That's all." Then he giggles.

The stern look Zoe is giving him flickers for a second, a trace of a smile the only indication that her expression had changed at all. "I think it's best we call it a night, considering we've lost our partners and we have an early morning tomorrow."

Simon pouts. "But we haven't finished this hand." He glares at his cards and sighs.

Zoe considers for a moment. "It would be foolish of me to bet against you now, Simon. You already told me you had a good hand."

But that tactic isn't going to work. It only takes Simon a second or two before he exclaims triumphantly, "Ah! But I could be bluffing!"

Zoe almost laughs out loud. Between his blushes and nervous twitches she had him figured out the very first time they ever played cards. His tells are obvious and blatant. And she has the pile of chits to prove it.

"Last hand takes it all?" he offers.

"You are definitely going to regret this in the morning." Zoe pushs her chits to the center of the table.

*****

Simon doesn't mind the losing so much. He doesn't even mind the extra chores. One of the chits Zoe won was two hours of his time and she's chosen the first hour to help him hone his shooting skills. He's looking forward to that, though he doesn't want to explore why too closely.

He's a bit surprised his drunken compliment was taken so well, actually. It's not something he would have ever said when sober, he has enough self-preservation to know that. But Zoe doesn't scare him like she used to. No, scare isn't the correct word. Maybe intimidate. She doesn't intimidate him like she used to.

It's not that she's mellowed, but they have become easier around each other in the last year, since Miranda. He's gone on more jobs, for one thing. And while he's no criminal mastermind or action hero, he has proven to be an asset here and there. And then there's the time they spend together in the infirmary, Zoe adding to the basic medical knowledge she already has. It's a pleasure to watch her learn. It's a pleasure to just be around her at all. And isn't that confusing.

*****

Zoe's correcting his stance from behind, one hand on his hip, the other moving his arm to the proper angle. Simon is trying to focus on the target and the weight of the gun, not on the warmth of her hands or the way the tickle of her breath on the back of his neck makes him crazy. He's not paying attention to what she is saying.

"I would, you know." Zoe finishes maneuvering him, but doesn't step back, doesn't move her hand from his hip. "Aim for the one on the left," she instructs.

Simon aims and shoots. The little thrill he always gets when he's successful makes him shiver a little and Zoe squeezes his hip in response. "What would you do?" he asks a bit breathlessly.

"I would say no. At least the first time." Her mouth is close to his ear. "Now shoot the two in the middle, one after the other."

He does.

"And the second time?" He lowers the gun and turns to face her.

She almost smiles, but doesn't meet his eyes, instead reaching for her own weapon and hitting the rest of the targets they have lined up.

"I still have another hour left. We'll see."

Simon tries not to grin. He's going to have to get some more of that plum wine.


End file.
